TheWhiteWolf

"Flames Rekindled. Smoldering Faith restored." A choir of voices, discordant in nature spoke hence from the shadows. "Four step forth from the shadows. Four take the mantles left discarded. A fractured Synod reborn. Unity Restored. The hunt for the Lordsakes begins." A forth fire is lit beneath the shrines of the Four Ways, Mordring had his Heralds. "So mote it be."

Much needed, +1

Smoldering Ember, Burgeoning Flame. 11th of the Deep Cold, Year 178 of the Second Age [The following is not known IRP with the exception of those who were there to witness it] She had not known what to expect, she had some grand ideas of what that blessed realm of Xion, the Abyss, would be but the truth was all the more greater than she could have ever hoped for, an experience that would shake her to her core and stir emotions long forgotten. She shifted through a wavering rush of gravity, space reorienting around her amid utter blackness. Then, depth. Shape. The skies roil with dark clouds of necrotic storms, desiccated trees carve the landscape of ebony dunes and sooty Aegisian ruins, and therein peace. She could taste, feel her heartbeat. She was graced with the subtle breeze on her phantom skin and felt life as she had once known it in ages past all rushing back and snapping into place. She could feel the weight on her feet. A Pulse. Breath. A Heartbeat. Her memory of these bygone feelings becoming as real as can be. In this moment she was overcome with sensation, hope. Her faith utterly rewarded after all these long years of service in pursuit of an ideal, an idea, a blessed place that could only be dreamed of even when she could no longer dream. In the distance swirled an obfuscating haze, the land itself leaking with endless visible lifeforce. It was a stark, monochromatic black-stained wasteland. And therein, a black heaven. A place for restful, peaceable dead. And it was in these moments that her mind was no longer a tumultuous sea of discordant voices all clamoring for attention, her mind was still. Silent. Calm. She was at peace for the first time in unliving memory. These blessed lands had changed her outlook, changed her mind, thoughts.. she had strayed from the path and for too long had she allowed the Synod and her Children to go shattered in direction and purpose. She stood afore the unliving Drakaar, that Lord of the Abyss and found new purpose in his service. Words were exchanged, Plans made, threads of fate plucked and pulled to the benefit of this immortal being. And in the end, she would seek her leave from this blessed domain though not before seeing a Soulbound Lantern, a Prison. The Fate of the Herald of Embers. With this knowledge she knew what had to be done. So mote it be. The Shadows Lengthened. She returned to the Mortal Realm. [The following missive is sent far and wide across the Mortal Realm, delivered in the dark of night by flocks of phantom Ravens] "Here us, one and all, the Sons and Daughters of Mortal Kind. For too long have the four Heralds of the Dissentious Way been absent, idle, slumbering away from the affairs of the world. But times are changing, the Dark rises and the Light begins to fade. A resurgent Xionist Faith rises, once a smoldering ember loosing its warmth it now begins to burgeon into a raging flame that casts its warm embrace over all of Mortal Man." "We should not forget our roots and where we have come from, though the Heralds of yore have been silent, we should not forget that when all was thought lost they kept our ways alive. Even now, new Heralds rise to take the mantles and usher in a new age for all. The Heralds of Umbrage and Strife have been named, Oaks is being sought as we speak which leaves that of Embers left. We have discovered the fate of the previous Herald of Embers, Azazel the Doused and they are lost to us." "So it is we proclaim such, we Vorztrok, Barrowlord of the Sixth Synod hereby claim the mantle of Herald of Embers. Any who would challenge this claim seek us out in Lumbridge before we become Ordained." "Times are changing, a new Cradle of Xionism is being born and with it a New Testament of Xionisim shall be written. So Mote it Be."

Harrowing Night, Eternal Dark "The North is no longer safe, it is the Harrowers Domain now.. if you value your life, do not venture there." -A Wayward Pilgrim spreading news of the land now covered in eternal night and shadow. 𓌏──────────────⊱𓂀⊰──────────────𓌏 Two figures stand in a hidden grove, the stone beneath their feet that made up the strange ritual circle they stood within was ancient. One knelt in supplication, the other stood tall, proud yet uncertain, seeking an ancient power. From this hidden Grove was a bargain struck, a deal made. From this hidden Grove would beams of dark energy shoot skyward, consuming the light from everything nearby. Dark clouds gathered, the sun, the moon, the stars were all consumed. Never to shed their light upon these lands again. The North was cast into darkness, eternal shadow. The Shadows consumed everything, no light was permitted to exist within the Harrowers Domain. This was just the beginning. what had transpired deep within that Ancient Grove? 𓌏──────────────⊱𓂀⊰──────────────𓌏 Those who ventured North would feel an intense presence of being watched following them through the Winter landscape, now shrouded in darkness. Shadowy figures moved just out of sight, and the once comforting embrace offered forth by a lantern would seem to barely cast its light to your feet. The Light had been banished from these lands.

+1

lmfao

+1

Love this

The Last Sage, a forgotten servant of the Maiden of Souls and relic of a bygone age mused upon the missive. Would the newly reformed Triumvirate be able to ascend past the failings for the former establishment? Only time would tell. For now, she would watch and wait until the former Ascended was needed.

The Eternal Smith had taken its last steps, the final sacrifice of the Grand King bringing the gargantuan construct down and offering salvation for the rest of his Dwedmar Kin. The Grand King and The Eternal Smith were no more.